Historic aspen tree carvings, called arborglyphs and defined as those dating from earlier than 1955, are rapidly disappearing in La Plata County as the trees live their normal life span of about 80 to 100 years and then die off and disintegrate into the forest floor. Sometimes modern passersby carve their own names over the historic ones. And then some of the aspens are cut for firewood.

Usually carved by itinerant sheepherders or by cowboys riding fence lines and checking on cattle, these historic messages are a poignant record of the passage through life of these often lonely men.

One man in particular intrigues me for I find his carvings everywhere as I hike through the areas where he rode his horse - Cascade Creek, Hermosa Creek, Dutch Creek and Elbert Creek. Because his carvings are high on the tree trunks, usually about 7 or 8 feet up, I imagine him on his horse standing up in the stirrups with his pocket knife out.

Who was this man, F.J. MOSS? I think about him as I hike. I imagine that his name is Frank and that he is a cowboy, not a hunter or hiker. Curiosity leads me to the Center for Southwest Studies, where the knowledgeable and helpful archivist, Todd Ellison, disappears briefly into massive filing cabinets to emerge moments later, triumphantly, with boxes of old marriage records and rolls of microfiche data documenting the 1900 and 1930 census for La Plata County. I think to myself, "Maybe somewhere in here I will find this elusive man and learn something of his life."

I begin with the 1930 records. In that year, census takers fanned out across the United States asking for "the name of each person whose place of abode on April 1, 1930, was in this family," and asking for their occupations, ages, and where they were born.

I hit the "ON" button and watch amazedly as the microfiche machine jerks forward then backward on its own, sputters and stops before settling down to a nice slow roll as it begins to scroll down through who was where in La Plata County in 1930.

It scrolls through familiar names, like the Pennington family, William and Rosa, their daughter Thelma and son James. And then through the Bodo family, Louis and Frances ("wife and homemaker"), the McDaniels and the Bandinos. In the Bandino records I note that the father, Antonio, and a boarder, also named Antonio, have come here from Italy. Both are coal miners.

An hour later, staring with glazed eyes at the rolling microfiche film, I am delighted and surprised to find who I think are distant relatives among the lives documented there: the Greenfield family, Joe and Sarah. They came to this country in 1906 from Hungary and later operated a clothing business on Main Avenue.

The machine rumbles on, passing through the Gardenswartzs and Salazars before I stop it to study the interesting Wong family: Raymond, owner of a restaurant on Main Avenue in 1930, his wife Mai and son Kim, plus eight roomers curiously also named Wong, and two other roomers named Gung, Ah Wing, and Cheng, Woh Chun. All are living together in the same residence and all work as cooks and waiters in Raymond Wong's restaurant.

And then my eyes open wide - there he is! I know it is him right away. His name is Frank! He is Frank J. Moss and in 1930 he was a 31-year-old "boarder" at the home of the Joseph Lachner family whose cattle ranch was at 73 Rockwood Road in Hermosa. His occupation is listed as "COW-BOY" and he is single. He hasn't yet fallen in love with Miss Vera Meadows, but he will.

Then I begin digging through the box of old, beautifully penned marriage records that the archivist has given me. There I find a medical record that a Mr. Frank J. Moss had a blood test done on Sept. 26, 1940, so that he could marry a Miss Vera Meadows. There is also a document showing that he applied for a marriage license on Oct. 2, 1940. I can only assume that Frank and Vera did indeed marry. I hope they lived happily together, although I have yet to find that out. The aspen carvings don't reveal everything.

Perhaps the 1900 Census will reveal a little more about F.J. MOSS, and it does. Forty-five minutes into the tape there are his father and mother - Jacob and Amy Moss - born in 1873 and 1879, respectively, and living on Second Avenue in Durango with their daughter Muriel and infant son, Frank.

"Well," I think, sitting back in my chair, well satisfied. "These are the bare bones of a life, but what of the man?" What were his hopes and dreams, did he have laugh lines around his eyes? Was he a baseball fan? Did he fight in World War I? Did he and Vera prosper and have children?

Perhaps I'll never know, but now when I hike and am lucky enough to find some evidence of him in the trees I will smile as though he were an old friend. Which, by now, he is.

Esther Greenfield is a volunteer with the San Juan Mountains Association and has been associated with a project to document historic aspen tree carvings in the area. For information on volunteering with SJMA, call 385-1310.